Hint One: I’m the alpha in power and the omega in ambition.

Hine Two: I come from a family of seven with two twins trying to keep me in balance.

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The night was filled by a silent awe. The wind traveled north and my breathe began to crawl. My words lost focus as my thoughts came to a stall, keeping company with stagnant and his infamous wall. Love can always keep you warm, but when I’m burning my torch is spiked with adrenaline, caffeine and solid gold. What was once there-can once leave, and once gone may once return. What is it that man needs most? What drives him to the greatest fall or the greatest of all human inspirations? There are times when voices fade to gray and 256 can lose some digits along the way. This motive is the silent survivor of all hope and all gain. The motive for God, for love, for talent, for work or simply the pursuit of pleasure and play; make no mistake about it, this motive is the strongest of all. To live without it, is to be a prisoner, and that sun that shone so bright, now flickers into the twice long baked night. As a poet can lose his voice, an artist forgets to take care of his brushes; by the first stroke the corroded paint leaves no room for anything but dust and ashes. If it collides, it collides with great magnitude, but if it’s directed with proper positioning, this noun transforms itself into a vector. Many will kill for it, few truly have it, many are jealous of it, and those with it, have a mental cross keeping up with it.

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Hint: This noun will make reading this very tough and horribly painful on your brain.
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Into the night it travels far, even though it starts near. This resounding echo forms my yelp and shapes my tear.

To not be reticent in voice is to garner this condition as the unwavering lack of compassion gives rise to a nuisance of complaining. Darkness now prevails and only shadows from aging beams of lights can withstand the noises.
These once grew as a clamor, now they quickly are being murmured into the silent dull night. I find myself being motionless as the world progresses forward; time is just marching to his own painful drummer. As the hours get longer, yes longer, still longer, my fight has given up and I’ll depart saying “Goodnight,” but wait I’m still awake.

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I am a “Migraine.”

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